The holidays are over, Fire and Ice is published, so no more excuses.

Okay, no more excuses. The holidays are over.

Fire and Ice is published!!!

So here goes.

Erynn replaced her smile with what she felt was an adequate expression of contrition. She walked out of the warm sunshine, through the big bay door, and into the cool air of the control tower.
The OIC, Major Kendal, stood at the front of the space. A small man with cropped gray hair and small eyes made smaller by his sour expression glared at her. He gestured, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.
Her eyes scanned the large, busy room. All twelve monitors were in operation against the curved outer wall displaying the global and system response areas for Korin, and its neighboring planet, Arranon. Technicians sat at computer-filled desks encircling the immense screens stacked double and extending into the second story. Open skywalks ringed the next three levels giving access to generators, power units, and data storage.
General Brayton stood near one of the monitors. He looked over at her. His brown eyes narrowed and he smoothed back his short dark hair. He brusquely tossed his head, indicating she wait outside, and turned his attention back to the monitor.
Erynn walked to the rear of the room, out a door to a short hall, and leaned against the cool white wall, her eyes closed.
What has him so tight?
She considered her wing commander’s usual controlled manner.
This obviously isn’t about my evaluation, or the reprimand.
She didn’t have long to wait. Straightening, her eyes popped open, alerted to General Brayton’s approach by his tense air. It preceded him as thick black clouds precede rain. In the uniform of the day, sharply pressed dark brown pants and bright white shirt, he joined her. She held a crisp salute until Castell returned one. Erynn felt his apprehension before he said a word.
“At ease, Captain.” General Brayton stood erect, his voice tense.
With just the suggestion of her posture relaxing, Erynn made eye contact.
He barked an abrupt order. “Tomorrow, fifteen hundred. Report to the hangar bay, in full dress. Be prepared to give the VIP Tour to visiting dignitaries.”
“Sir? You know I’m not good at these presentations.” Erynn began, surprised by his request.
“Believe me, Captain Yager, you’re not my first choice. You’re not my choice at all. Something about you . . .” He glanced down the short hall. “You somehow manage to intimidate those around you.” He turned back to her, his gaze penetrating. “I’m no happier about this than you are, Captain.”
“I understand, Sir, and I agree. Couldn’t someone else, someone more
appropriate—
“No,” he snapped. “You have been personally requested for this detail. Just do it Captain. That was the order, for both of us.” His commanding tone gave her no choice. With a brief salute, he turned and left.
Who requested me, and why?
The question drove the last vestiges of the disturbing vision, the attacking alien fighters, and the ruined airfield, from her mind. Erynn even forgot about her forthcoming lecture from the OIC, Major Kendal. She would find out who made this request tomorrow, and it better be good.